Page 7 of Meant For Love

The plane picks up speed before my back is pressed against the seat, and I look out the window at the sun in the sky shining down on the city of New York, where I was born and grew up. Well, I grew up on Long Island, but I’ve lived in New York City since I turned nineteen and attended NYU in public relations and corporate communications. It started when I turned fourteen, and my brother, Stone, and my cousin Christopher made me take over their social media accounts. I would post a couple of times a week and answer all questions and dm’s, except for the disgusting ones asking me for my dick size. Even though once I wanted to grab a picture of a knife and send it back to them, saying it’s about this long but not as razor sharp. Unlike me, they did not find any of this as funny. After I did the two of them, I sort of started doing a couple of my other cousins before I thought about doing it for real.

As soon as I graduated, I started working with my Aunt Candace at her PR firm. She handed me my first client, my cousin Franny. She lived out in Dallas and had a sports television and radio division taking over all the PR they had to do. Then I was hired by my Uncle Matthew for the television and radio division he had in New York and Chicago. I was then hired for a couple of foundations, and my client list grew so big I could pick my clients. The good thing about doing what I do is I’m not constantly working with the same people all the time. I set them up, ensure everything runs smoothly, then check in on them a couple of times a week as management. I literally love my job, and I’m good at it. When Nash called me, I had no idea he even knew what I did, let alone how good I am at my job.

The plane coasts into the clouds, and I look up as Ricky walks toward me, smiling. “I have coffee or tea or mimosa.”

“I’ll have a mimosa,” I say, knowing I will be okay since I’m landing in six hours, “but just one.” I hold up a finger.

“Perfect,” she replies. “I have your fruit platter as well as a platter of cupcakes.” I just stare at her. “Along with sandwiches from the bagel shop you love.”

“What?” I ask, surprised and a little shocked. Well, not a little, like a whole lot shocked. “How?”

“It was on your list,” she says. “I’ll be back.” She turns to go back to the galley, leaving me with my mouth hanging open.

“How in the hell did he know about my favorite bagel shop in New York?” I ask myself because there is no one else I can ask. “That is so fucked up.”

“Also, if you want, I laid out a pillow and a blanket for you in case you wanted to nap,” Ricky offers once she comes back with my mimosa. I pull out the tray table from the side of the chair. She walks over to the seat in front of me, opening up that tray table, where she also puts a bottle of water for me. I take a sip before she comes back with a platter of fruit that looks so fresh, I just want to eat it all, but what I’m really looking at is the plate with my pumpernickel everything bagel in the middle of it filled with scrambled eggs and sausage.

“Thank you, Ricky,” I say, grabbing a piece of bagel and taking a bite. I finish eating the bagel and grab my laptop, opening it up and pulling up the Cottrell Group file I started reading through yesterday, when I agreed to go see what they were all about.

I move from my chair to the couch to work, only looking up when Ricky comes over to tell me we are landing in ten minutes. I close my laptop and store it back in my backpack before sitting in my seat. I see the sun shining down in LA just as bright as in New York. My hands start getting clammy as I watch the plane descend, touching the runway. I close my eyes, trying to beat the nerves away as the plane slows down. Ricky gets up as soon as the plane comes to a stop, and I unbuckle my seat belt.

I stand, smoothing out my pink pants before walking over to put on my matching jacket. I grab the handle of my backpack and sling it over my shoulder. The door opens, and Ricky turns to give me the okay to step off. “Thank you so much, Ricky,” I say before I walk out of the plane. Stopping on the first step, I see Nash standing there, or better yet, leaning on the hood of his black car. He’s wearing dress pants and a white button-down shirt that is opened at the collar. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, and his arms are folded across his chest. One foot is on his bumper, and I swear he oozes sex appeal without even trying, which makes me even more annoyed. He stands when he spots me, smiling as he takes off his aviator glasses. “There she is,” he says, his voice sending shivers up my spine as I walk down the stairs to the last step.

“Here I am,” I confirm when I take my first step on the tarmac.

Nash closes the distance between us, and I can see his crystal-blue eyes. He wraps one hand around my waist before he bends his head to kiss my cheek, making my knees weak. “Welcome to LA, Zoey.”

Four

Nash

I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her against my chest, and look down into her green-gray eyes and the soft freckles on her nose before I bend my head. I want to kiss her plump lips, but I know if I do that, she might kick me in the balls. Instead, I bend and kiss her cheek, smelling the hint of her perfume. “Welcome to LA, Zoey.” I let her go even though my hands itch to pull her back to me.

“Thank you,” she says. “Glad to be here.” She tilts her head to the side. “I think.”

I put my head back and laugh before some guy wheels over her pink luggage. She goes to grab it but I beat her to it, her hand landing on top of mine. “I’ve got it.”

“Oh, okay.” She quickly yanks her hand back from mine. I can already see she is trying to move away from me, but I don’t let her. I put my hand on her lower back, ushering her to my car.

“How are you feeling from the flight?” I keep the conversation very neutral, knowing there will be time to talk about work stuff later.

“A little tired but I’m okay,” she admits.

“Are you hungry?” I ask as I stop by the passenger side door. “We can get a late lunch/early dinner and discuss a couple of things.”

I can see the wheels spinning in her head. “That sounds great.” She shocks me. I was betting on her saying she would get room service. Score one for me, I guess.

“Great,” I say, stepping forward and opening her door for her.

She mumbles, “Thank you,” right before I shut the door on her and before she can tell me she’s changed her mind. I store her luggage in the trunk before getting in the car.

“What do you feel like eating?” I ask, starting the car and turning the AC on.

“Surprise me.” She smiles, and I just smirk, raising my eyebrows, knowing full well she isn’t going to want me to surprise her with what I want to eat. Because what I actually want to eat is her. “You seem to know what I like since all my favorite food was on the plane.”

“Ahh,” I say, putting my glasses over my eyes so she can’t see me gawk at her. “Just wanted you to be comfortable.”

“Should we discuss how you knew?” She turns in her seat to look at me.

---